Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
But then Rick started to pull his fingers slowly out of my bottom, and I managed to slow my rhythm, on my clit and up and down my newly bare pussy, enough to pull up from the orgasmic cliff.
“You’re ready,” he said. “Stand up and take off everything but your lingerie. I want you in your pretty bra and panties for your first bottom fucking.”
He stood me up, facing him between his knees. I remembered how very hard a time I had stripping for him yesterday. That memory, of my first whipping, of my first real fucking, of my husband enjoying my mouth for the first time and coming there… for a split second I seemed to balance on the edge of some knife of decision, as I wondered whether I would simply obey Rick’s latest command.
I put my right hand behind me. My skirt had stayed tucked up, where he had put it to train me over his knee in that utterly degrading fashion. My lacy thong panties had stayed askew, where Rick had pulled them so that he could open my bottom and prepare me for his final claiming of his once-innocent bride.
I felt my fingers slip between my punished cheeks even as a new blush overspread my face at the thought of where I meant to touch myself. But the little hidden flower, the tiny, wrinkled button, felt so strange after what its strict new owner had done that I had to touch it.
As my fingers pressed gently and shyly where my husband’s had pressed so firmly, so lewdly, I felt my forehead crease. I heard a little sob in my throat. I had had my eyes closed, but now I opened them and I looked into Rick’s face, right in front of mine and on the same level though I stood and he was seated.
He narrowed his eyes just a little, as if he were trying to see the thoughts inside my head. I gave a little gasp as I felt his hand on my hip, moving around it, seeking out my own hand, learning what a naughty thing I was doing with my fingers in my bottom.
He put his big hand over my little one, over my whole bottom it felt like.
“Mine,” he said in a deep, growly voice that was also very soft. “Remember?”
I opened my mouth and took a gasping little breath. I couldn’t help it: I pushed two of my fingertips inside my newly open bottom-hole.
“Yes, sir,” I sobbed, and then I pulled my hand out from under his and I started to take off my skirt as fast as I could, while Rick just kept holding my bottom that way, possessively, as if to remind me that, yes, indeed, he owned that and every part of me.
When I had the waistband of the skirt undone, Rick let go of my backside so that I could drop it to the floor and step out of it. He took my bottom in his hand again, though, with two fingers between my thighs, clearly asserting his rights over my pussy, as I struggled out of my top, as I dropped it, too, to the floor.
I stood in the lacy white lingerie in front of him then, and I watched his hungry eyes roam over my front: my little breasts with their budding nipples visible through the mesh of the bra cups, my smooth pussy revealed by the narrowness of the thong’s front and the translucency of the lace.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, and I had to look down at his clothed lap, blushing absurdly at this compliment just as much as I had blushed to have him declare his ownership of my anus.
He put his finger under my chin and raised my face up, so that we could look into each other’s eyes. He had the biggest, most loving smile on his face, and despite all the craziness—which I supposed would always seem to me both insane and utterly right—my heart melted as he tilted his head a little and started to kiss me.
With one hand on my bottom and the other on the back of my head, Rick kissed me for a very long time, tenderly at first, and then fiercely, with his lower hand working my pussy so hard I almost came, and then tenderly again. I whimpered into his mouth, wanting to beg for mercy and yet also wanting to serve him precisely as he had decided I should.
He broke the kiss. He said, “On the bed, over the pillows, just like last night.”
I felt my face crumple and a sob rose from my chest as he gently moved me out from between his knees so that he could rise and pile the pillows, just like last night. Yes, at least this first time, I understood, my husband’s hardness in my bottom represented a crucial form of discipline. I had been rude to an important person, and now I would learn my most difficult lesson yet. From now on, when I misbehaved, Rick would correct me this way when he saw fit, or he would spank me, or he would whip me. He would decide, just as he would decide when to enjoy my pussy and my mouth—and when I had earned the reward of the overwhelming, incredible pleasure he could bestow on my shamefully needy body.